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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328906">The Morning After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse'>celticmuse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:56:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Several crewmen find themselves in trouble after a night of Romulan Ale</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Chapel/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Drunk Dialing the ACMO & Other Really Bad Ideas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Christine Chapel stifled a yawn as she exited the turbolift into the silent, dimly lit corridor leading to Sickbay. With barely four hours of sleep under her belt every cell in her body was crying out for a mega dose of the highly potent, though just barely palatable, substance that passed for coffee in the Enterprise Sickbay. The silvery doors swooshed open at her approach and finding no witnesses in the deserted outer office she surrendered to her bone weariness, indulging in a long, languorous yawn and stretched out her bed stiffened muscles.</p><p> She quickly got down to the business of making a pot of coffee. The light was on in M'Benga's office, and as the replicator beep signaled the end of its task he came out to join her, mug in hand.</p><p>"Why so early, Chris?" he asked as he helped himself to a cup.</p><p>"With all of the parties last night I figured you'd be swamped and might need some help with the reports."</p><p>"It was busy on and off. Mostly bangs and scrapes, nothing serious, and a lot of requests for the medical grade antitox for all the booze.”</p><p>“Yeah, I noticed that Decker’s picks skewed toward the young side. Good kids but a lot of them are pretty hard partiers,” she replied as she added a fourth packet of sugar to her coffee.</p><p>“Is there any coffee in that mug, Chris, or is it just milk and sugar? “he asked, with that deep rumbling laugh she’d always loved. </p><p>“It’s a complex formula—just enough coffee for the caffeine but enough milk and sugar to kill the taste of Starfleet coffee.  I can’t prove it but I think Len has been adding a little Kentucky sunshine to his,” she responded prompting another laugh.</p><p>She’d missed that laugh these past few years planetside; she’d missed quite a few things these past few years. The decision to leave the ship for the accelerated medical program at Fleet had proved an excellent move professionally, but it had come at a cost. Nyota was a line officer now and all of her free time seemed allocated to video seminars and training sessions.  Jan had finally figured out the second worst kept secret in Starfleet—Hikaro Sulu was madly in love with her and the two of them were making up for lost time.  The nurses, some of whom had been with her on the last five year mission, regarded her as “the boss” and while they were still friendly they never included her in their social gatherings. McCoy, on the other hand, seemed almost resentful of her no longer being his trusty nurse and they were still feeling their way toward some new normal between them.</p><p>She turned her attention to the chartpads at the nurses’ station to pass some time until her shift officially started.</p><p>"Chris, you're a doctor now. Leave that for the nurses."</p><p>"Sorry, Geoff.” Len’s been after me about that for the past four months. I guess old habits really do die hard."</p><p>"So you didn't go to any of the parties?" he asked.</p><p>"I’m not really much of a party person and besides I've got some projects going in the lab that needed my attention last night. Well, if you have things in hand here, I can use the time to catch up on my own paperwork. I'll be in my office if you need me," she said as she took her mug of coffee and a handful of report pads and headed for her office.</p><p>There really was nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning after a long night in the lab, she mused sitting down at her computer terminal. What Starfleet coffee lacked in taste it more than made up for with a galaxy class caffiene jolt.  The comm light was blinking signaling that she had messages waiting for her. </p><p>"Computer, play messages, authorization: Chapel delta pi seven."</p><p>"Chapel delta pi seven authenticated. You have seven new messages."</p><p>"Seven messages? Sort by priority code."</p><p>"All priority level one."</p><p>"Seven P1 messages? What the heck? List." At her command a list of senders popped onto the screen. Though she recognized all of the names, one name stood out among the rest.</p><p>"Play Commander Spock's message first, then play the remainder sorted by rank."</p><p>As his angular features filled her screen, Christine felt an anxious fluttering in her stomach. Nearly four months after Spock's return from the monastery at Gol to the Enterprise they appeared to be on the verge of becoming what her grandmother used to call an "item". He had invited her to share the evening meal with him tonight in the Officer's dining room. Maybe he was getting the Vulcan equivalent of cold feet?</p><p>Tentatively she touched the screen and the message began.</p><p>"What the hell?" She stared at the screen after the message ended certain now that she was still in her bed sound asleep. As the next message began, this one from Captain Kirk, she started to wonder if her coffee had been spiked with some alien hallucinogen. The remaining messages played out, each one seemed more bizarre than the previous one. As the final message finished Christine found her utter shock morphing into fury.</p><p>"Computer," she commanded sharply. "Memo from Doctor Christine Chapel acting CMO USS Enterprise to Captain  James Kirk, Commander Spock, Commander Montgomery Scott, Doctor Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Hikaru Sulu, and Lieutenant Pavel Chekov." She took a deep breath.</p><p>"Gentlemen, and believe me I use that term loosely, I am in receipt of each of your missives from earlier this morning. I would like to take this opportunity to make myself perfectly clear to all of you.</p><p>"I do not wish to 'lower my shields and be boarded'. I do not wish to see the 'Captain's log’. I do not wish to ‘inspect your ‘plasma injectors’. I do not wish to have my warp core ‘breeched’, nor my warp nacelles ‘adjusted’. I am uninterested in attending any ‘debriefing sessions’ in any of your quarters.  I do not wish to make ‘first contact’. No, you may not ‘pet my tribbles’. I am not interested in hearing anymore metaphors that include the following: shuttlecraft and shuttle bays, Jeffries tubes, your warp drive, thrusters, photon or for that matter any sort of torpedoes, zucchini, plomeeks or any similarly shaped fruits or vegetables.</p><p>"I would like to state, unequivocally, that if you told me 'I had a beautiful body', I would under no circumstances in this or any possible universe hold it against any of you."</p><p>"Computer:  please attach link to Starfleet Sexual Harassment Interactive Tutorial," she continued. "You will each find yourselves locked out of your duty stations until you have logged in and completed the test with a 100 percent ranking.</p><p>"Computer please cc this portion of memo to Catering and Ships Stores, in the future Romulan Ale will not be served at any ship's functions under any circumstances. Existing stores of said item are to be destroyed by oh eight hundred hours this date under the authority of Doctor Christine Chapel MD, PhD acting Chief Medical Officer USS Enterprise.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Out of the Closet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hikaru Sulu woke to total darkness, certain for a few moments he'd been struck blind. Gradually a faint bit of light coming from underneath the door began to illuminate the indistinct shapes surrounding him. His tactical sense kicked in and he began furtively running scenarios in his head, trying to determine what could have caused him to be imprisoned in the cramped, dark room.</p><p>He was alone, of that he was quite certain. He stretched out each of his limbs in an impromptu inventory of his body parts. All accounted for, no apparent damage he decided, though his head was pounding. Had they beat him, drugged him? And who, for that matter were "they" and where the hell was he? Gingerly he pulled himself to a seated position, pausing momentarily to regain his equilibrium.</p><p>The pounding in his head worsened and he was hit with a wave a nausea that almost knocked him back down to the floor. Focus on the door, he ordered himself. It appeared to be the only way in or out. Perhaps he could find something around him to jimmy the door, or to use as a weapon against his mysterious captors?</p><p>There was no way to determine if there were any surveillance devices in the room, so he snaked along the floor as quietly as possible to avoid detection. It was metal of some sort, cold to the exploring touch of his fingers. He listened carefully, hoping for some clue as to what he would face beyond the door. Footsteps, approaching quickly, he searched the darkness vainly for anything he could use against the mysterious enemy drawing closer.</p><p>The doors made a scraping sound as they opened and Sulu threw himself into the bright light taking his captor to the ground with him. Her screams refueled the pounding in his head, and embarrassment flooded him as he recognized the terrified woman underneath him as Tamara Kavanaugh one of the junior lab techs.</p><p>He was on the Enterprise in the corridor that led to the Biochem labs.</p><p>He scrambled quickly off of the young woman, and was attempting an apology as the security team moved purposefully toward them, phasers drawn.</p><p>"Everything's fine here, just a misunderstanding," he said anxiously, his hands raised. It was starting to come back to him now with agonizing clarity.  The party in the Officer’s Lounge, the enticing pale blue of the icy Romulan Ale, a lot of Romulan Ale.</p><p>"Are you alright, ma'am?" one of the red shirted ensigns asked Tamara, who had pulled herself to a seated position against the wall.</p><p>"I think so," she responded. “I was just going into the supply closet for some sample cases and, “her breathing was returning to normal and she was beginning to sound more amused than frightened, "and the Commander jumped out when the door opened."</p><p>All eyes turned to Sulu and he smiled sheepishly at the pretty lab tech. "It would appear that I had a little too much to drink last night."</p><p>The two security guards looked at one another, both obviously stifling a laugh. “Yeah, you and half of the crew. With all of the end of shakedown parties last night the brig is already running at almost double capacity. It's your call, Ensign," the taller of the two said, as he offered her a hand and gently helped her to her feet.</p><p>She cast Sulu a hard look. "Will you stay out of my supply closet, Commander?"</p><p>"You have my word, Ensign," he responded holding out his hand to her.</p><p>She took the proffered hand then nodded to the two security officers who strode back down the hall.</p><p>==============================================================================<br/>
Sulu stepped off the turbolift and walked briskly to his quarters. He was off shift today, but had plans to meet Janice for lunch. He checked the chrono.  There was plenty of time for a quick shower, some off duty attire, then a trip to the botany lab to check on Gertrude. The rapidly blinking light on the comm indicated that he had a priority one communication waiting. He felt a strange gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. What if Jan found out about his night in the supply closet and was calling to cancel lunch? The redshirts were, after all, a notoriously gossipy lot and on the Enterprise grapevine information traveled at warp speed.</p><p>He felt a moment of relief as Christine Chapel's face filled the screen, but that moment was short lived. Her eyes, so clear and blue, like sapphires, like a summer sky, like the Mediterranean Ocean, like a goblet of Romulan ale, the memories came to him in a nauseating flood. The small party in the Officer's lounge, they'd all had too much to drink; he’d always had a sort of a thing for Chapel on the first mission. It was a fatal combination. Fatal, if Janice found out it would be worse than fatal.</p><p>He stripped off his uniform and tossed it into the recycler unit, as he stepped into the shower. He was going to have to figure out a way to get back in Doctor Chapel's good graces, and it would have to be soon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Russian Roulette</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A stream of Ukrainian epithets, which had no direct translation into Standard, broke the silence in the darkened cabin. Groaning in frustration Pavlov reached for the exquisite blue-eyed creature who had invaded his dreams but his ethereal bedmate had fled in soft blue haze of Romulan ale. His jaw ached, and he tentatively rotated his mandible as his fingers surveyed his teeth which it appeared were, thankfully, all present.</p><p>Cautiously he lifted his head from the bed pillow, fighting the intense nausea and disorientation that he recognized from past experience as the legacy of an overabundance of Romulan Ale. The dark cabin was illuminated only by the soft crimson light of the chrono on the desk. It was almost oh five hundred hours he noted, and a sense of relief washed over him as he realized that he was on Beta shift today. The pain in his jaw however, was hard to ignore, and he wondered if perhaps a trip to Sickbay for a scan might be in order, and while he was there a shot of antitox as well.</p><p>Sickbay. He sat up quickly, far too quickly for his alcohol compromised stomach which evacuated the offending contents to the decking beside the bunk. It was all coming back now, at least bits and pieces. He had been at the small party the Captain hosted for the original Alpha command team. Lieutenant Commander Uhura left early to meet someone at another party; he remembered that part quite clearly. Then they broke out the Romulan ale, and things started to get fuzzy. He'd been arguing with Scotty about how a team of Russian astrophysicists had actually postulated the theory of Warp drive, even though Cochrane had taken all the credit for himself. Seriously, how could someone get through 25 years in Starfleet and not know basic engineering history?</p><p>The Captain and Commander Spock and been deep in discussion of something obviously troublesome for the Vulcan. He moved closer to them to refill his glass and was startled when the generally tea totaling First Officer held his own glass up to Chekov for a refill.</p><p>The next part was fuzzy, but Pavel clearly recalled the Captain looking at Spock and saying, "I certainly can't fault your choice. Chapel has the finest ass in Starfleet."</p><p>Pavel remembered clinking his glass to the Captain’s and saying "I totally agree, sir."</p><p>He rubbed his aching chin, which triggered a much less pleasant memory. The somber Vulcan set down the goblet of ale and coldcocked him. Incredulous, the Captain had helped him to his feet.</p><p>"The Captain said it," Pavel had had protested.  "Why did you hit me, Mister Spock?"</p><p>Spock had regarded him with barely focused eyes. "Indeed, but it would not be logical to strike a superior officer," he responded as he calmly refilled Pavel's glass then his own. After that he had no memory, except a vague impression that he'd commed someone later in the evening.</p><p>He snuggled down into the covers, convinced that sleep would be his best plan for the time being when the thought hit him and he sat bolt upright.</p><p>The chrono in his cabin had a blue display. Whose bed was he sleeping in?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Gone With the Snoring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A warm Georgia breeze swept across the wide front porch and the hammock responded with a soft sensual sway. Leonard McCoy opened one lazy eye to locate the fresh mint julep he'd heard the woman place on the white wicker table at his side. He was certain that he'd died and gone to heaven.</p>
<p>"Thank ya, darlin,'" he said, raising the glass in a deferential toast to the dark haired beauty standing at the porch rail.</p>
<p>"Fiddle dee dee, Leonard McCoy," she said, her blue eyes sparkling and a petulant pout on her prettily painted lips. "I do declare, you were out all night carousing with those dreadful Yankee boys and now you're just sleeping away the whole day."</p>
<p>"Now, now, sweetheart,” he said. He attempted to sit up, but the nausea the change of posture generated persuaded him to remain horizontal for a bit longer before he finally rose from the hammock. Moving to her he tenderly slipped a possessive arm around her slender waist. "What would you like to do this afternoon?"</p>
<p>Her blue eyes danced with that special delight when she knew she would be getting her way. "Well," she tapped her finger against her cherry red lips "there's a barbeque at Twelve Oaks, everyone will be there."</p>
<p>"Well, Miss Scarlett, if everyone is going to be there then I guess we'd better be there as well."</p>
<p>Scarlett threw her arms around him and squealed with unabashed joy. He pulled her to him and moved his lips to hers in a long slow kiss.</p>
<p>Without warning, the porch shook to its foundation, as a powerful rumbling sound came upon them. McCoy's heart was pounding in his chest, and Scarlett's deep blue eyes telegraphed her terror. They held each other tightly for a moment and then the second wave, much stronger than the first engulfed them.</p>
<p>Clutching the frightened woman to him, he turned in the direction of the deafening roar.</p>
<p>Snoring?</p>
<p>He sat up abruptly the bed sheets tangled around him.</p>
<p>"Damn it, Jim," he sighed as he hurled a bed pillow at the man sleeping his couch. Kirk opened his eyes momentarily, regarding McCoy as he defiantly retrieved the pillow,stuffed it under his head and pulled the blanket up over himself.</p>
<p>Lying back on the remaining pillow, McCoy attempted to piece together the events from the previous night's revelry. It had been quite a night, the old gang back together and the Romulan ale had been flowing freely, even that blasted green eared hobgoblin had tied one on. Things were fuzzier after the second round. Sometime around the 4th he remembered Spock cold cocking Chekov, and for some reason they'd been talking about Christine Chapel. He shook his head trying to clear out the alcohol induced cobwebs from his memory.</p>
<p>"Chapel has the finest ass in Starfleet."</p>
<p>He was sure that he'd heard Jim Kirk say that to Spock, then Spock punched Chekov- but that didn't make any sense. He knew Jim had a thing for Chapel from as far back as the first mission, hell most of the crew would have made a move on her, himself included, but she'd only had eyes for that damn boneheaded Vulcan lug.</p>
<p>His attention was drawn to the blinking light from the comm unit on his desk. Gingerly rolling from his bed he realized that he was still wearing his clothing from the previous night. Padding over to the desk he dropped down into the chair and switched on the electronic communications device.</p>
<p>He smiled as Christine Chapel's face filled the screen, noting that the dark hair made her sapphire eyes appear even bluer.</p>
<p>"What the…" he jerked up from the seat outraged as the message played. “She can't do that!" he protested to the thin viewscreen. “I’m the CMO… she has no business…" his anger morphed into abject mortification as the gaps in his memories began to fill, and the picture forming was not a pretty one. </p>
<p>"That blasted Vulcan!" he said snapping off the viewscreen. It had all started innocently enough, a small get together of the old crew. Spock had actually shown up, surprising on it's own but then he'd been mooning over Christine like some lovesick teenager. But emotionally he is a teenager, the doctor in him corrected. The combination of Gol and then V'ger had left Spock emotionally open, but without the emotional development and maturity to deal with the constant barrage of feelings he was now experiencing.</p>
<p>They had recorded the comms as a goof, ok a stupid drunken goof but a goof nonetheless. Somehow they must have ended up sending them to her unit in Sickbay. He shook his head in disgust and fought another wave of nausea.</p>
<p>"Get up!" he grumbled to Kirk, smacking him with the other bed pillow." We're in some deep shit, my friend and we need to figure a way to dig ourselves out pronto."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Worshiping the Porcelain Goddess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She drifted to meet him, fresh born from  the sea like the Botticelli Venus. The Scotty reached out for the ephemeral vision of perfection standing before him. Her blue eyes were sparkling like a thousand stars, beckoning with the promise of all that could be.</p>
<p>Cold, icy cold like death, her promise lost to him as his callused, well-muscled fingers slid along her alabaster curves. No he screamed, pulling her closer, willing his heat, his life, into her glacial inanimate form.</p>
<p>"Commander Scott?"</p>
<p>She lives! He felt a brief moment of unspeakable joy.</p>
<p>"Commander Scott!" It was Riley, Kevin Riley. The Chief Engineer gradually awakened and realized that he was locked in a lover's embrace with the toilet in the Officer's fresher in Engineering.</p>
<p>"Are you alright, sir?" Riley asked closing the door on the curious group of red-shirted ensigns snooping outside. He himself had been known to worship the porcelain deity on countless occasions; it was humiliating enough without an audience.</p>
<p>"Fine, lad," Scotty assured him as he slowly rose to his feet. "I may'a had meself a wee bit too much to drink last night."</p>
<p>"I think we all did," Riley nodded sympathetically. "About a quarter of the Alpha shift in Engineering is on the Binnacle List, sir. I have a call out for replacements."</p>
<p>With a quarter of the staff gone, Scott decided against returning to quarters and headed for his office instead.</p>
<p>"Computer, Commander Montgomery Scott logging in," he said, attempting to suppress his annoyance at his third unsuccessful attempt to log into the system.</p>
<p>"Riley," he shouted to the outer office. "Some idiot has overridden my command codes."</p>
<p>"Have you checked your messages, sir? Maybe the system is off-line or something?"</p>
<p>Scott pushed a button and spoke to the small viewscreen which responded instantly to his voice and authorization code. </p>
<p>He felt a strange pang of some feeling he couldn't quite quantify at the sight of Christine Chapel's lovely blue eyes, and alabaster white skin. As the doctor's message played out Scott's ample jaw dropped in disbelief. Surely he hadn't… it must be some mistake he decided. But somewhere in the back of his mind he had a flash of memory, a most humiliating memory indeed. </p>
<p>"What time is it?" he asked Riley jumping up from the desk chair.</p>
<p>"Uh… oh eight thirty five."</p>
<p>Commander Montgomery Scott shook his head ruefully, pausing a moment out of respect for the sub atomic particles of the twenty-four cases of Romulan ale that were now floating in space.</p>
<p>"Aye lad, the Captain isn't gonna be happy about this."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Three Logicals and You're Out!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Shit," Kirk laughed bitterly at the small comm screen. His head was still pounding as the last remnants of the Romulan ale worked themselves out of his system. The detox tab Bones had given him earlier hadn't brought any noticeable relief, and he wasn't quite ready to face Chapel down in Sickbay to get something stronger.</p>
<p>"I don't recall that being an answer to any of the questions, Jim," McCoy responded with unchecked annoyance.</p>
<p>"No, it's the acronym for the test.  Sexual Harrassment Interactive Tutorial "s" "h" "i"…."</p>
<p>"I can spell, Jim." </p>
<p>Kirk aborted his planned retort and logged into the test. There was no point in trying to reason with the doctor who was still smarting, as was he himself, from the indignity of being relieved from duty by his own ACMO.</p>
<p>"Can she do this?" McCoy asked sullenly as he programmed another cup of strong black coffee from the replicator in the Captain’s quarters.</p>
<p>Kirk nodded tightly, dreading a recurrence of the overwhelming nausea he'd experienced upon arising earlier. The Romulan ale had clearly been a mistake and Chapel was within regulations to release them from duty pending medical review-- hell if that comm tape made it to Starfleet they would probably spend the remainder of their careers hauling spent dilithium crystals to the other far side of the Delta quadrant.</p>
<p>"The Captain's "log"?" McCoy grumbled, "and Spock, that blasted green hobgoblin of all people… he's spent the past five years running like hell every time Chris so much as looks his way."</p>
<p>"Well, Bones, it looks like Chapel's turned the tables on him."</p>
<p>"Turned the tables on him? What in the hell are you talking about?"</p>
<p>"Apparently our Vulcan has discovered girls, or at least one particular girl."</p>
<p>McCoy leaned back in his chair digesting this new piece of information and a Cheshire cat grin spread across his face. "So all that mooning over Christine last night wasn't the liquor talking?"</p>
<p>"No, it's been going on for a few months. I think he's in love with her."</p>
<p>"Fascinating."</p>
<p>Kirk was still ruminating on the previous evening's revelation that his First Officer wanted to nail the lovely ACMO. Although, true to form, Spock has confided it to him in that special Vulcan way that apparently could even make sex sound boring. Blah blah blah logical blah blah blah tradition blah blah blah logical blah blah blah mating blah blah blah logical. As was his custom when discussing anything with his Vulcan First Officer, particularly when Jim had a few drinks in him, he enforced a stringent "three 'logicals' and you're out" rule. After the third "logical" he stopped listening and went into smile and nod mode.</p>
<p>Kirk was still feeling his way through this new relationship with the more emotionally open Vulcan, and while had found himself touched by the strange mixture of innocence and desire in Spock's confession if Spock couched his proposal to Christine, or any woman for that matter, in the dispassionate terms of logic he might as well give up now. He had been trying to help Spock understand that he needed to communicate his newfound desires to Chapel in a more traditional, romantic context, but after the Romulan ale came out things had spiraled out of control.</p>
<p>Kirk returned his thoughts to the next question on the screen. "Apparently, my three Ferengi walk into a bar joke will have to be retired."</p>
<p>"It should be retired."</p>
<p>"You think it's sexually offensive?" Kirk asked frowning</p>
<p>"Worse, it's not funny."</p>
<p>Kirk entered the last answer into the terminal.</p>
<p>"Captain James Tiberius Kirk, congratulations! You have passed the tutorial with a 100 percent rating. You are now returned to active duty."</p>
<p>"Well Bones, we're both back on duty, but I doubt we're out of the doghouse with Christine."</p>
<p>"Roses."</p>
<p>"Roses?"</p>
<p>"She loves peach roses."<br/>
"Computer, Captain James Kirk authorization Omega Delta 1744 memo to ship's stores. I need a dozen… two dozen…. make that three dozen peach roses delivered to Doctor Christine Chapel in Sickbay stat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. In The Captain's Chair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bridge of the Enterprise was silent save for the barely perceptible  hum emanating from the instrument panels. In the faint glow of the digital readouts the sole occupant of the otherwise darkened bridge settled into the Captain's chair and steepled his fingers against his lips, assuming a tranquil meditative pose. Before him on the viewscreen, the vastness of space lay before him, a lavish banquet of new horizons to experience and explore. But the sparking spectacle of stars and planets was lost on the Vulcan whose vision had turned in upon itself.</p>
<p>He did not hear the soft swooshing sound as the turbolift doors opened, nor the light footsteps that approached him.</p>
<p>"You called for medical, sir, "she said calmly, her brilliant blue eyes neutral, her posture straight, perfect Starfleet regulation, a junior officer attending her commander .</p>
<p>"I am…" he paused searching for the word, "unwell."</p>
<p>"I see," she responded, her gaze more focused, more attentive. "Is there perhaps something I can do to help?"</p>
<p>"I am… unsure," the effort at speech straining his Vulcan reserve. "Perhaps."</p>
<p>She moved toward him, and he felt his pulse quicken. She set the medical tricorder on the arm of the chair then slowly extended a pale hand to his forehead. Her touch was delicate and cool as a spring breeze and he leaned in to her. Pulling the hand back, she unfastened the closures on the front of her tunic which fell open to reveal, to his great pleasure, that she was wearing no brassiere underneath. He was unable to contain the most unvulcanlike sigh that escaped his lips.</p>
<p>She smiled as if acknowledging his pleasure at the sight then licked her cherry red lips seductively. Using the arms of the chair she moved herself up on him in a kneeling position, her nicely muscled thighs straddling his tightly.</p>
<p>With tantalizing slowness she reached out and gently placed her hands on his head, her long fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him unresisting to her alabaster breasts.</p>
<p>"Christine," he whispered, his voice low and raspy.</p>
<p>"You're hot, perhaps you have a fever?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps," he responded, his voice muffled against her soft breast, instinctively moving his lip toward the rosy nipple. "I burn for thee."</p>
<p>She leaned back from him and he groaned in frustrated protest. Her eyes regarded him with bemused curiosity as she unfastened the remaining closures on her clothing, like an Orion club girl gradually revealing her lush body to him, and then casually cast the garment to the decking beside the chair.</p>
<p>"I am pleasing to you?"</p>
<p>His eyes moved slowly over her shapely body lingering on the taut rosy nipples of her creamy white breasts.</p>
<p>"I… can I… touch you?" he asked haltingly, Vulcan reserve and human desire warring within him.</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>He moved his hands to caress her softly curved hips, the flesh silky smooth and slightly cooler than his own. His long fingers tentatively slid up her ribcage to the firm breasts, moving gently in lazy circles over the dark nipples which to his surprise hardened at his touch.</p>
<p>"Fascinating."</p>
<p>She threw her head back, and laughed heartily. He pulled her to him and captured her sweet lips in a searing kiss, which she returned mirroring the intensity of his rough probing tongue.</p>
<p>Her fingers were on an odyssey of their own, their course clearly set on a southern destination. He felt her smile as she reached her target, her nails raking along the shaft of his penis, now hard and straining against the unforgiving fabric of his uniform pants. As if sensing his thoughts, she redirected her focus to the closure of his pants, and he lifted himself up enough for her to slip down his trousers and black briefs.</p>
<p>She moved against him in a building rhythm, her face was becoming flushed and her heartbeat quickening. He moved his hand between them seeking the center of her heat, and using the pad of his thumb began making featherlight circular strokes to fan the flames.</p>
<p>"Are you ready?" he asked hesitantly, concerned that with his lack of experience he might inadvertently harm her.</p>
<p>"I've been ready for the last five years," she responded her voice heavy as she grasped the hard flesh and moved it into the proper position.</p>
<p>He was ready, so very, very ready as he thrust his hips up to meet to that tight wet opening.</p>
<p>White hot pain shot through him and the sharp sound as 170 pounds of Vulcan male came crashing to the deck caused the safety override to bring the lights up to full power. Spock let out a roar of pain and frustration as he attempted to untangle himself from his bedsheets and get himself to an upright position.</p>
<p>His head was throbbing and he found a lump on the back of his head that roughly equated in size to a terran tree nut. But the pain in his head was no match for the painful throbbing between his legs. It would be prudent, he decided, to go to Sickbay and have the lump on his head checked out, but he certainly couldn't leave his quarters, not in his present condition He grimaced at the thought of a cold shower, but it was the most logical solution.</p>
<p>It took almost ten minutes of frigid water and Vulcan calming techniques to return his body to normal. He wrapped himself in a towel and went back to his sleeping alcove to dress. It was strange, but he had little memory of the previous evening with the Admiral and members of the bridge crew. They had all consumed quite a bit of Romulan ale, but he could only remember bits and pieces of the rest of the evening.</p>
<p>It was unexpected, this warm feeling of camaraderie he was beginning to experience with his crewmates. He felt more open, he felt more accepting, he felt. He had been rebuilding his life after his encounter with V'ger, a life that would balance his Vulcan and human natures. Friendship that would be a part of this new life. Friendship, and perhaps more, he mused as he considered tonight's dinner with Christine Chapel</p>
<p>As he pulled on a pair of off duty pants he noticed the flashing light on his com unit. He slipped on a black sweater and moved to the desk to retrieve the message.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I'm a Doctor, Damn It, Not a Florist!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The anger in Christine's voice reverberated in Spock's ears as he replayed her comm yet again. His memory of the previous night was coming together bit by bit like a jigsaw puzzle and it was forming a most unpleasant picture. They had been drinking Romulan ale in the Officer's lounge; ‘male bonding’ had been the term Dr. McCoy used. He had taken pleasure in the way his crewmates accepted him, as though he'd never left them, as though he'd never tried to purge the feelings he'd harbored for them on the burning sands of Gol. He had not fought to push the emotion aside as he would have done in the past but had allowed it to fly free.</p>
<p>What followed, however, was a tangled blur. Christine, the others had expressed admiration for Christine, more than admiration he recalled glumly. He had experienced an unfamiliar emotion that he understood to be jealousy and had struck Lieutenant Chekov.</p>
<p>He was unsure of how he could possibly face her after what they'd done. How could he make her understand when he himself didn't understand?</p>
<p>Kneeling before the shrine of the ancestors he cleared his mind and asked for their help.</p>
<p>+++++++++<br/>
"Come," Christine Chapel responded to the chime on the door of her private office "Unless you have more flowers, then turn around and leave now."</p>
<p>"Captain Kirk.” She nodded stiffly, her voice cool and Kirk suddenly felt like the proverbial long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.</p>
<p>
"May I?" he asked glancing toward the chair across from her desk.</p>
<p>"Of course, sir," she responded curtly and he couldn't help hearing the light glaze of sarcasm on the word 'sir'.</p>
<p>He waited for her to sit before seating himself across the desk. It was becoming clear that she had no intention of making this easy for him—and why should she?  They’d behaved abominably, she would be well within her rights to bring them all up on charges of conduct unbecoming.  Glancing nervously about her office he noticed the vases of flowers covering ever horizontal surface. It had the unsettling effect of making the small space seem like a funeral parlor. Perhaps it was appropriate given the circumstances.</p>
<p>"Chris," he began sheepishly.</p>
<p>"You can save the Iowa farm boy smile. I've destroyed the coms, so you're off the hook."</p>
<p>Kirk swallowed hard and felt a hard knot forming in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>"I'm …"</p>
<p>"An ass? A sexist pig? A sack of …"</p>
<p>"Sorry, I'm sorry Chris. We had too much to drink it just all got out of hand. We never intended to send them."</p>
<p>"I know," she sighed, "That's why I destroyed the comms instead of forwarding them to Fleet. But don’t think I didn’t consider doing just that.  So, I’m supposed to just, what, ‘suck it up’?  Boys will be boys—that’s how it goes, right? What in the world were you thinking?”</p>
<p>"Spock…"</p>
<p>"Oh yes, Spock, that was just the big red cherry on top of this hot fudge cluster…"</p>
<p>"It wasn't his fault, Chris."</p>
<p>"I don't care whose fault it was. Do you people have any idea what that first tour of duty was like for me? No of course you don't. I had a PhD in Biochemistry and Xenobiology, but to you I was just a glorified shuttle hostess fluffing pillows and passing out pudding. But it was my job so I did it and I did it well."</p>
<p>"You were a compassionate caring nurse, Chr… doctor."</p>
<p>"Oh, yes caring," she responded icily. "I had the bad luck to fall in love with your damn Vulcan First Officer. You and Leonard had a field day with that. Hell the whole crew had a great laugh at my expense. Oh there goes Nurse Chapel with a bowl of soup for Mister Spock, isn't that hilarious? Yeah, foolish me taking a bowl of soup to a crewmember who hadn't eaten in four days. I was doing my damned job." She rose abruptly from the chair and turned away from him her arms crossed defensively across her chest.</p>
<p>"Do you know how hard it was to finish a five year medical degree in two years? And, I might add, at the top of my class? Did you think I got this posting because Will Decker wanted to 'pet my tribbles' or "breach my warp core"?</p>
<p>"You've fucked half the sentient beings in the quadrant and you're still the grinning golden boy. I brought a patient a bowl of soup five years ago and I'm still a laughingstock." </p>
<p>"I do understand how hard you worked to get here, and I understand that sometimes I can be a real horse's ass. You're a valuable member of my crew, Chris. and I intend to do whatever it takes to make you understand that and to earn back your loyalty and respect."</p>
<p>"Well you can start by getting all these flowers out my office. I'm a doctor, damn it, not a florist."</p>
<p>Kirk risked a light chuckle at the obvious reference to her crotchety boss. "I'll send a yeoman down to take care of it stat. What about these?" he asked picking up the basket of plant material.</p>
<p>"Touch those and die." she said snatching the basket from him. "Those are some of Sulu's cocoa pods from the hydroponic lab."</p>
<p>"I've never known Hikaru to part with even one of those before."</p>
<p>"He was the first one to come and apologize this morning. I think he was afraid that I would tell Jan. Then Pavel came with the daisies which, according to him are a Russian flower and a hairline fracture to the mandible, and then Scotty showed up with the orchids."</p>
<p>"What about you and Len?"</p>
<p>"We'll be okay," she laughed, "he's taking all of my 'on calls' for the next month."</p>
<p>"And us? Will we be okay?"</p>
<p>"We'll be ok too. I didn’t log the relief from duty for any of you so it won’t show up in your records."</p>
<p>"Has Spock…" he stopped debating the wisdom mentioning Spock.</p>
<p>"Has Spock what?"</p>
<p>"Been down here to talk about last night?"</p>
<p>"Oh yeah, that's definitely gonna happen. I'm expecting him right after Santa Claus and the tooth fairy. Now if you don't mind, Captain, I have actual work to do, so I must respectfully request you to get the heck out of my office."<br/>
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br/>
Spock arose from the mediation stone with a sigh of frustration. Five hours and he was no closer to understanding what had happened than he was when he opened Christine's comm. It would be so easy to lay the blame on the alcohol, but he must accept the responsibility for the consumption of the alcohol and accept the consequences of his actions. It was the only honorable path. He didn't know how he would find the courage to face Christine Chapel, but he would face her.<br/>
++++++++<br/>
"Come." Christine called out in response to her door chime. Hopefully it was the yeoman Kirk had promised coming to clear out the vases of flowers. She looked up to see instead a remarkably uncomfortable Vulcan standing in her doorway.</p>
<p>"Are you alright?" she asked gently despite the anger she was still feeling. Rising up from the desk, she took a medical tricorder from the shelf behind her and held it toward him.</p>
<p>"I am fine, as least physically," he sighed and shook his head softly. "Regrettably, I cannot say as much for my dignity."</p>
<p>"Would you like to sit down?" she asked nodding toward the empty chair.</p>
<p>"I was not sure that I would be welcome here." He regarded her carefully for a moment before seating himself across from her. "You are still angry."</p>
<p>"It will pass, hopefully before any of you come in for your next physical."</p>
<p>"Ah, you are using humor to defuse the anger."</p>
<p>"Am I?" she smiled.</p>
<p>"I cannot change what has happened, Christine, I can only say I am deeply shamed by my behavior. It was inexcusable to speak in such a way to a person whom I hold in the very highest regard. I shall endeavor to make certain it will not happen again."</p>
<p>She bit her lips together tightly and nodded her head. "I don't believe the Captain will be hosting anymore parties for a while."</p>
<p>"I would say the likeliness of that action would be point oh…"</p>
<p>Christine held her hand up to stop him and laughed heartily. "I wish I could have seen the look on Jim's face when he found out they'd spaced his whole stash of Romulan Ale."</p>
<p>"I cannot imagine that he was pleased."</p>
<p>"Oh I'm sure he wasn't." her gaze shifted down to the chartpadd she'd been working on for a moment, "I appreciate you coming," she said and stood and offering him her hand.</p>
<p>He hesitated a moment before tentatively reaching out and taking her hand.</p>
<p>"Are you ready for dinner?"</p>
<p>"Dinner?"</p>
<p>"Did we not agree to have dinner together tonight in the Officer's Dining Room."</p>
<p>"Yeah… I don't….I don't think that's such a good idea."</p>
<p>"Eating dinner is not a good idea?"</p>
<p>"The two of us eating dinner together isn't a good idea."</p>
<p>"Explain?"</p>
<p>"It could give people the wrong idea."</p>
<p>He raised a curious eyebrow. "Specify?"</p>
<p>"When humans…" she sighed, "people might think we're…"</p>
<p>"Hungry?" he said with the barest trace of a smile.</p>
<p>"Dating."</p>
<p>"Would it disturb you if people were to think that?"</p>
<p>"Wouldn't it disturb you?"</p>
<p>"Vulcans are not as public in their mating rituals as humans, but if I am to enter into courtship of a human female it is logical that I adapt myself to the rituals of human mating."</p>
<p>"Whoa, how did we get from dinner to mating?"</p>
<p>"It is the logical progression, Christine."</p>
<p>"Logical?" she fumbled for the medical tricorder quickly booting it back  up and scanning him. "Like, every seven years kind of logical?"</p>
<p>"Really, Christine," he said snatching the tricorder from her hand and setting it down on the desk. "It is not the Pon Farr." He reached out and examined one of the peach roses in the vase on her desk, tenderly fingering one of the delicate petals. "Perhaps I have waited too long to declare myself?" he said shifting his gaze to the flowers throughout the cabin. "You prefer the attentions of another?" he involuntarily rubbed the knuckles of his right hand.</p>
<p>Christine's eyes widened. "Are you the one who decked Pavel?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he responded slumping slightly into the chair </p>
<p>"I do not prefer the attentions of another."</p>
<p>"Then you will have dinner with me?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps," she smiled as she stood and removed her lab coat. He stood as she moved around the desk to join him. She leaned in close to him, though she was almost certain he would back away. Instead he drew even closer, they were scant inches apart.</p>
<p>"I just want to make sure…you know there is more involved than getting the "shuttle pod" into the docking station?"</p>
<p>The Vulcan raised an elegant eyebrow and nodded. "I am quite aware that there are certain protocols and procedures necessary to the proper preparation of the docking station and its environs that are essential to the creation of a satisfactory docking experience."</p>
<p>Christine threw her head back and laughed. "Satisfactory docking experience… we better be talking about the same thing, mister."</p>
<p>Spock gently pushed her back against the wall and captured her lips in soft lingering kiss, as he pressed the length of his body against her sending a shockwave of intense desire through both of them.</p>
<p>"Is my meaning clear now?" It was his voice, but she realized it was coming from her mind.</p>
<p>"Yeah," she sighed as they broke the kiss, "Pretty clear. Perhaps we should have dinner in my cabin?"</p>
<p>"Agreeable, however my quarters are closer," he whispered his voice raspy with desire.</p>
<p>"Logical."</p>
<p>Leonard McCoy watched as Spock and Christine hurriedly left Sickbay hand in hand, and Christine's melodic laugher rang through the outer office. There were precious few things in the universe that he considered to be worth twenty-four cases of Romulan ale, he mused as the durasteel door slid shut, but he was certain he'd just seen one of them.</p>
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